Minnie
by BittyBlueEyes
Summary: NOT a romance! This is a one-shot highlighting a single meeting in the life of Minerva McGonagall, sixth year student.


**NOT a romance. **

**This was originally going to be a full story creating a friendship and the falling out of McGonagall and Tom Riddle, but it just didn't work out. Instead, this is a one-shot of a single day in the life of Minerva McGonagall. Enjoy.**

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The mid-October evening sun shined dully through the high windows of Hogwarts' Library, bathing the student therein with a warm orange glow. The effect, though comforting, caused many of the students' brains to become a hazy, much like a nice calming draught might. Minerva McGonagall, however, refused to let the feeling sweep over her. No, she had work to do. She had been told, time and time again throughout her years at school that NEWT courses were a lot more work than previous years, but she was discovering that fact on her own, and all previous warnings were not strong enough. Sixth year was hard. That was not to say that the work was too much for her. In fact, she usually had her work done before her peers. The problem was that once the work was finished, there was little time for other things and that was what was getting to her.

The young woman yawned, stretched out her writing arm and twisted her wrist to relieve the cramp in her hand, and got right back to studying the complex Arithmancy chart in front of her.

_Why did I ever choose Arithmancy?_ she groaned to herself. _It's not like I'll ever actually use it... Well, at least it's not Divination._ She snorted at the thought of her friends stuck in the stiflingly hot and stuffy divination tower. No, Arithmancy was a much better choice if one needed to choose between the two. She shook the thoughts from her mind. She needed to concentrate on the work, not the class itself, if she was ever going to get it done before dinner.

A shadow fell over Minerva's parchment and reference book and she straightened in surprise. Before she had a chance to look up at the person standing across the table, he announced his presence with a soft, 'hem-hem.' Minerva inwardly groaned again but turned on a fake smile and looked politely up at the boy across from her.

"Hello, Minerva." The young man smiled confidently down at her. His shoulders were rigid with pride, his clothing impeccable, and his hair so strictly combed to the side, she thought he might have been able to pass for decent mannequin in the new robe shop in Hogsmeade.

"Hello, Barty," Minerva replied evenly. The boy stood there another minute, just staring at her. She imagined he might be trying to think of what to say. "Is there something you need?" she urged. She simply didn't have the patience to deal with him at the moment. She'd spent enough time tutoring Barty Crouch over the past couple weeks and couldn't stand another minute of his fake humility. She never knew that a person could act so small and modest and still come across as such a pompous little brat.

"Oh, erm, yes," he answered as he cleared his throat and straightened his green and silver striped tie. "See, I know that I passed my Transfiguration test and so our prearranged contract has been fulfilled but, well, I feel that much of my confidence came directly from your tutelage. I was thinking that perhaps, if you have the time, you might continue tutoring me. I would..."

"Barty..." Minerva cut in before he could continue with what she imagined to be a well-rehearsed dialogue.

"I would even be willing to offer a larger payment. There's no question that you deserve-"

"Barty, stop. Please," Minerva answered flatly. "We both know that you don't need to be tutored. I spoke with Professor Dumbledore and he tells me that the lowest grade you've ever gotten in his class was an E. If you owe me for anything, it's for the valuable time that I _wasted_, thinking that you really needed assistance."

"But I did! I do," he argued. He set the books in his arms on the table and leaned forward to better make eye contact. The look in his eyes appeared so earnest that Minerva became even more irritated. "It's not the lessons in my year that I'm having trouble with so much, but the way you talk about the basic principles of the art makes me feel more prepared for what's to come. Truthfully, don't you feel-?"

"Stop. Just stop. I get it now and the answer is an even more solid 'no.'" she said, crossing her arms across her chest. "The position of a peer tutor is to help a struggling student to rise to the level of his or her classmates in the lessons that have been covered by the course teacher. I am not a teacher and it is not my place or even my desire to spend my free time teaching you material above your grade level. You're in fourth year and you will have to wait for your professor to receive proper instruction."

"But, how then is it fair that you're learning transfiguration beyond your sixth year classmates? You do so to fulfill your desire to grow, to excel, in a subject you are quite skilled in. All I'm asking for is the same opportunity."

"I'm receiving private lessons with Professor Dumbledore because I asked him personally and we had it authorized by Headmaster Dippet. If you wish to receive personal, advanced lessons also, then you need to speak to Professor Dumbledore, not me," Minerva answered with a tone of finality in her voice. Unfortunately, Barty Crouch didn't accept her suggestion as a closure.

"I already did ask him. He told me that he doesn't believe extra lessons are necessary for me. He underestimates me," Barty protested.

"I highly doubt that Professor Dumbledore underestimates you." At Barty's narrowed eyes, Minerva clarified her statement. "Professor Dumbledore is a brilliant and incredibly perceptive man, and he spoke highly of your performance in his class, as well as the good things he's heard from your other professors."

"Well, then he's discriminating then because I'm a Slytherin and not one of his precious Gryffindors," the boy sneered bitterly. In his frustration, he swiped at his books, knocking the topmost book to the floor.

"Now you're grasping at straws. If Professor Dumbledore declined your request, then I'm sure he has good reasons for it. And if my answer was a firm 'no' a moment ago, it is now, most emphatically, '_no _and don't ever ask again.'"

"How dare you!" another female voice entered the conversation unexpectedly, surprising both the fourth year Slytherin and the sixth year Gryffindor.

"Excuse me?" Barty asked. He was as much confused as he was affronted as he watched a tiny blonde bend over to pick up the book that he had knocked onto the floor.

"I said, 'How dare you!'" the scrawny blonde girl repeated. Were she taller, she might have looked intimidating with her pursed lips and one hand on her hip. As it was, she looked like a snotty little brat that thought herself of much greater authority and influence than those around her.

"How dare I what? Who are you?" Barty scowled.

"How dare you treat a book with such disrespect!" The girl turned her scowl from him only long enough to examine the book she had cradled in her arm.

"Barty, this is Irma Pince, a first year Ravenclaw with an appreciation for the library that just might match my own," Minerva said with a lopsided smile. She met the petite first year on the first day of the new school year and had since seen her blonde pigtails bouncing along through the aisles, either treasuring the dusty tomes with reverence or scolding those that didn't. Minerva found the overzealous first year to be amusing, annoying, and adorable all at the same time.

"Apparently more so, as you didn't say a thing about the way he just abused school property!" the small girl snapped.

"Abusing school property?" Barty said incredulously. "It's my personal schoolbook, now give it back, you loon!"

"The fact that you own it doesn't give you the right to disrespect it!"

"I said, 'give it back!'" Barty growled, as he tried to take it forcefully when Irma refused to hand it back.

"Oh, for goodness sake! We're in a library. Would you both please stop fighting?" Minerva whispered sharply in frustration. At this rate she was never going to get her work done. "Look, Irma, I don't like when people don't care for books either, but-"

"Then do something! You're a prefect, aren't you? Take points away or something!" Irma insisted. While her eyes were focused on Minerva's shiny badge, Barty took the opportunity to yank his potion's book out of the girl's surprisingly strong grip.

"Prefects can only take points away from their own house," Minerva said offhandedly as she returned her attention to her schoolwork.

"Then give him a detention!"

"You can't be serious! All I did was-"

"I can't give him a detention for the way he treats his personal property."

"But he dog-eared some of the pages!" Irma hissed in outrage - never breaking out of hushed library tones - as she pointed an accusing finger at the book in question.

"Merlin's beard, kid!" Barty said in disbelief. "You're insane. This is my book and I have a right to do whatever I want with it! If I want to rip a piece out roll my bubblegum up in, it's my right."

Irma's mouth widened in outrage and she looked just about ready to break acceptable library volume when Minerva held up both her hands and glowered at them.

"Now listen here, both of you. You're both disrespecting the library and the students here to research and revise as they are meant to. If you can't both stop this ridiculous arguing this instant, I'll give you both detentions for disturbing the peace - meaning _me_."

The two bickering students fell silent and Barty even had the decency to look properly chastised... even if it wasn't sincere.

"Thank you," Minerva said irritably. _Maybe now I can get some work done._ She took a deep breath and adjusted her shoulders to shake the tension, and just as she was about to put her quill to the parchment, she realized her mistake. In the small flick of her wrist, a few small drops of ink flew from the nib of her quill and landed directly on the open copy of "The Divine Triangle"... the library's copy. Minerva's thought immediately flew to the eleven-year-old girl whose mouth hung open in incensed horror.

"No, Irma, it's okay..." Minerva started placatingly.

Irma's head was shaking in disbelief and when she found her voice, it was much louder than was acceptable indoors, let alone the library. "I'M TELLING!"

Barty looked ready to snicker in amusement as the girl ran away, but held it back to first gauge Minerva's mood. It was hard to decipher, however, as her face was buried in her hands.

"Y-you can clean it somehow... can't you?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes," she groaned. With a quick little flick of her wand, the ink disappeared. "Now Barty... Not to be rude or anything... but get lost!"

Barty nodded and rushed away quickly and quietly. Minerva McGonagall was generally recognized as a kind, polite student, but her temper was not something to mess with.

It took a few moments and deep slow breathing, but Minerva managed to calm herself and return to her work. It was just as her heartbeat was finally settling back to its normal rate that a small noise sent it racing in fury all over again.

"Hem-hem."

The fake clearing of one's throat to get someone's attention. Could there be a more annoying way to go around it? Of course there could and the person who just coughed had found it. He was right behind her shoulder and that, in her book, counted as sneaking up behind her.

"Barty, if that's you, I'm going to hex you," she threatened darkly.

"No, er... not Barty," a voice answered.

Minerva turned in her seat to look at the apprehensive young man who spoke. She still felt ready to snap, but tried her best to keep her composure with her unnamed visitor.

"I can see he's upset you though. I can go hex him for you, if you'd like," the boy offered, gesturing in the direction of the library doors with his thumb. Minerva looked at him with interest, her eyebrows knit together as she surveyed him. His voice... He sounded absolutely serious about his offer, no hesitation or regret, but it also felt like he was joking, a hint of amusement hidden in one corner of his mouth.

_So which is it?_ she wondered. The boy raised his eyebrows, awaiting a response. Minerva scrutinized him for another moment, even more confused about him after meeting his dark eyes.

"Uh, no, I don't think that'll be necessary," she finally answered.

"Are you sure? His dorm is only one door from mine." A smirk formed on his handsome features and Minerva finally decided that he was kidding and couldn't fight the tiny smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth.

The smile vanished instantly, the moment she caught sight of the clock on the wall. She had wasted an incredible amount of work time dealing with younger students. There was no way she'd be able to catch Professor Dumbledore before dinner at this point. She just had to make sure she would be able to finish before dinner started. And now she had another underclassman standing there wanting something.

A first year, a fourth year, and a fifth year walk into the library... It sounds like the beginning to a pathetic attempt at a joke.

"Did you need something?" she asked as politely as she could manage. She wasn't entirely sure how it sounded, but by the way he seemed unaffected, she figured she must have pulled it off well enough.

"I was just wondering if I could have a seat," he answered, gesturing to the chair across from her.

"Why?" she inquired suspiciously.

"Just to study. This table is near 13th Century History," he explained, pointing to a set of shelves near her.

"Study?" she asked skeptically. She might not have questioned him, but the claim to be looking up history was suspicious to her. No one liked history because of the mandatory History of Magic courses. The very word 'history' made most students yawn, and she was not immune to it. It took great effort to suppress her yawn, and she probably looked silly doing so, but something about him made her not want to appear... weak? "Just to study? Like reading and writing quietly in work pertaining to appropriate academics?"

The young man chuckled softly. "Is there another definition of studying that I'm unaware of?"

"You'd be surprised by the things you can catch people doing only to get the response, 'I was just studying'," she answered.

"Well, I assure you that I'll stick to the dictionary definition, but if you prefer that I find another table..."

"No. No, I'm sorry. Please, sit," Minerva gestured to the empty chair.

With a sigh, the boy slid into the chair and let his heavy schoolbag fall off his shoulder.

"Is something else wrong?" he asked as he spread his things out in front of him. It was then that Minerva realized that she was staring at him.

"N-no, forgive me. I've seen you around the school, most specifically in dueling club, but I don't think that I know your name..." she said uncomfortably.

"Oh, no, you must forgive me. I should have introduced myself. My name is Tom Riddle," he smiled as he extended his hand to her.

"Oh, _The_ Tom Riddle?" she responded as her eyebrows arched in surprise.

"_The_ Tom Riddle? My name precedes me?" he asked. In her surprise, she had not accepted his handshake and he slowly pulled his hand back.

"It does indeed," she answered with a small smile.

"In what way?" he inquired curiously. "The title of '_The_' Tom Riddle makes me sound quite infamous."

"Well, that would depend on whom you would ask. There might be a few that would call you infamous in the Gryffindor tower. The fifth year boys, of course, are the hiss your name. Tom Riddle is the reason they're going to fail their O.W.L.s, why they can't get dates, and the reason Gryffindor lost to Slytherin in the last quidditch match," Minerva chuckled.

"I don't even play quidditch," Tom spoke aloud as he tried to considered all of the charges against him.

"Yes, but word has it that you brewed a draught of living death a few weeks ago. It's customary for Professor Slughorn to offer a prize to anyone that can brew it on their first attempt. Granted, that isn't offered until sixth year, but the fifth year lions say that you like to show off. The prize then, was Felix Felcis, liquid luck, which you are accused of giving to the Slytherin seeker for the last match."

Tom let out a hearty laugh. "Do all Gryffindors really believe that Slytherins are completely underhanded?"

"Oh, of course not all. And it really is only the fifth year boys that dislike you. Any other mention of your name were girls mewling how good looking you are," Minerva replied casually. "Which is part of why the guys dislike you. You get the Professors attention as well as the girls'. And not just any professor either; Professor Slughorn, the man with connections."

Tom's eyebrows rose again at how flippantly she informed him that there were groups of girls that found him attractive. Of course, he knew that he was handsome and positively charming, he used those attributes to the best of his advantage. The thing that surprised him was that Minerva acted like it was of no importance.

"Well, it seems to me that we're on equal footing in that department. I might be Ol' Sluggy's star pupil at present, but you are, without a doubt, the star of Dumbledore's collection, Minerva. Is it okay that I call you Minerva?"

Minerva knew that she had some sort of argument that she was going to make, but it was lost on her the moment he said her name. It was then that she realized that she hadn't introduced herself to him. He already knew her by name.

"Erm, yes, Minerva's fine," she answered, "but I didn't realize that you already knew who I was."

"I asked a Gryffindor in dueling club. When I saw that Knee-Reversal Hex you threw at Walburga Black, I simply had to know your name," he smiled, his dark eyes twinkling when they fell on hers. "Oh, but you must forgive me again. Somehow my simple introduction has digressed to this."

He glanced up at the clock behind him and grimaced before shuffling through a stack of papers and selecting one close to the bottom.

"No, I'm sorry, too," Minerva returned. Their eyes met for a moment, just to convey their apologies, and they jumped full force into their studies. Minerva would occasionally feel him glancing up at her but was too busy trying to get through the rest of her work before dinner.

The library was getting dimmer by the minute as the sun began to disappear behind the mountains. Anxious about the time, Minerva glanced up at the clock and was startled to see a panicked looking Slytherin boy rushing toward their table.

"Tom," the Slytherin boy said as he stopped at their table.

Tom held up a finger, requesting the other boy wait while he finished the sentence he was writing. Minerva watched curiously. The thick, curly-haired Slytherin was out of breath but waited patiently.

"Yes, Dolohov?" Tom asked, only glancing up as he fanned dry the fresh ink of his recently written report.

"P-Professor Slughorn said that he got a corre...corespod..."

"Reply from his correspondent?" Tom offered.

"Yeah, he got an owl from that guy that he thought you'd be interested in," Dolohov said proudly. "He said he can show it to you before dinner..." At that, Dolohov glanced at the clock and grimaced miserably.

"Thanks," Tom nodded to him as he neatly gather his things and placed them in his bag. Dolohov took it as his sign to go and backed away from the table. He met Minerva's eyes for a moment but seemed unsure of how to regard her. Without even a nod of acknowledgment, he turned and left. It took Tom another second to clasp his bag and swing it over his shoulder, but he paused before leaving.

"It was a pleasure to finally meet you, Minerva." His smile turned into smirk and he chuckled as he added, "I hope I've met your expectations as _The_ Tom Riddle."

Minerva rolled her eyes. "Yes, as infamous as they come."

"Yeah... Well, I'll see you at the next dueling club meeting if nothing else." Tom nodded one last time, the dark wave of his hair bouncing once but staying perfectly in place.

As soon as he walked out the library door he stopped. After waiting three seconds, he leaned back around the doorframe and took one last look at _The_ Minerva McGonagall.

"T-Tom...?" Dolohov timidly tried to get his dorm mate's attention.

"Urgh... _Tom_," Tom grumbled, disgusted by his own name. "_The_ Tom Riddle."

Dolohov was unsure how to respond, if he should even speak at all. "I-I'm really sorry that I was late."

"I should hope so," Tom replied. His eyes were narrowed when he finally looked in the boy's direction. "As it was, she already seemed to know me as Slughorn's favorite. But when I tell you to be somewhere at a specific time, I don't mean give or take three minutes. She could have left before me and if she hadn't... I don't have to explain things to you. You be where I tell you to be and at the exact time I specify. Understand?"

"Of course, but... Well, she looked at me... Am I supposed to hate her...? Or not care?"

"You act as you are, Dolohov - utterly oblivious."

Tom Riddle turned and smirked to himself. Step one complete. _The_ Tom Riddle introduced himself to _The_ Minerva McGonagall and she seemed impressed by him even if it was in the smallest degree. Before he knew it, he'd have dear Minnie wrapped around his finger and assisting him in his endeavors, whether she knew it or not.

"Excellent."

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**Please review.**


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